


Broken Link

by ShadowQuest



Series: One Final Leap [12]
Category: Quantum Leap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowQuest/pseuds/ShadowQuest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy Jo & Ziggy race to find a way to reverse whatever's happened to Sam, and come to a startling conclusion that does not sit well with Donna or Tina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Link

**Author's Note:**

> This is the final chapter of "One Final Leap."

Chapter Eleven

“Broken Link”

_“So, explain my role again?” Al asked, sipping his coffee.  He would’ve rather had a stiff drink, but Sam had gotten him dried out, and he’d made a commitment to stay that way.  He owed the kid that much, at least._

_“It’s simple.  We use the Imaging Chamber to project a neurological hologram of your image to wherever I am in time.  It’ll be created by syncing our brainwaves, specifically by a subatomic agitation of carbon quarks tuned to the mesons of my optic and otic neurons.”_

_Al’s right eyebrow arched high at that explanation.  “That’s simple?”_

_Sam chuckled.  “Actually, that’s the easiest way to explain the process.”_

_“Sounds dangerous.”_

_“Trust me – it won’t be.”_

 

“I must’ve been nuts trusting you, Sam,” Al lamented, looking down on his friend lying in the bed in the infirmary.  “Nuts.”  He shook his head.  “You said it was simple, you swore it wouldn’t be dangerous.  I wouldn’t actually be back there, so I was supposed to be safe.  Well, I sure as hell don’t _feel_ safe, buddy.”  He sighed and rubbed the side of his face.  “Where are you, Sam?  Whose life are you reliving now?”

 

_The man in the tux was standing by the jukebox, and seemed to be enjoying himself._

_“Isn’t this great?  I mean, isn’t this just great?  It brings back so many old memories.”  He got a far-off look for a moment, as if reminiscing.  “Hey, do they have ‘Be-Bop-a-Lula’ on there?  Got me through some long, cold nights at MIT.  ‘Be-Bop,’ and a little Lithuanian girl named Danesa.  She was in the chemistry lab researching...”_

_“Am I dead?” he asked, fear edging his words._

_“What?”_

_“Dead.  Am I dead?  It would explain a lot.  I could be in a reverse incarnation that’s entered in midlife.”_

_The tuxedoed man seemed amused at that suggestion.  “That’s a good one, Sam.”_

_“You know my name!”_

_“I’m not that wasted.”_

_Moments later, they were by a stream.  This time the man was in bright red pajamas and a white robe with black polka dots and stripes.  He was holding a white mug with a swirling musical staff on it, and looked as if he had a massive headache.  Or possibly a killer hangover._

_“Who are you?”_

_“You still don’t remember me, huh?  That’s sad, pal, very sad. My name is Albert... Albert what, I can't tell you because it's restricted. Most of what you'll want to know is restricted, so it would be a lot easier if you don't ask a lot of questions.”_

_“What are you?”_

_“That's a question, Sam.”  He sighed, and rubbed the side of his face.  “I'm a man, like you.”_

_Sam reached out a tentative hand, and was surprised when it passed clear through the man’s...Al’s chest.  “Not like me,” he denied._

_“Oh, no, uh, this isn't me.  This is, uh, a neurological hologram. It's an image that only you can see and hear.”_

_“Created by a subatomic agitation of carbon quarks tuned to the mesons of my optic and otic neurons?”_

“How is he?” Donna asked quietly from behind Al.

He jumped slightly, which didn’t help his headache any.  “I can’t tell.  He’s asleep, that much I know.  And so far he hasn’t yelled or given any indication he’s having nightmares.”  He sighed and turned to face her.  “I’m sorry, Donna.  Sorry for this whole mess.”

“It’s not your fault,” she assured him.  “None of us knew when we started this what kind of side effects, if any, there would be from Sam’s traveling through time.”  She looked at her husband, who certainly looked peaceful.  “They’re just about ready for the trial run,” she went on.  “Once he wakes up we can start.”  She turned back to Al, and noticed how haggard he looked.  “You all right?” she asked with concern.

Al managed a weak smile.  “Fine.  Just nursing a killer headache.  Had some pretty intense dreams last night, didn’t get much sleep.”  His smile was a little bit stronger.  “I’m fine, really.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

He shrugged elaborately.  “I have no idea.  I’m totally trustworthy.”

 

_The room he was in was totally white – walls, ceiling, floor, even the furniture.  He was holding a large white card with a black...smear in the middle of it.  The doctor had asked him to use his imagination when he looked at the blob, try to find a shape in it._

_He studied it intensely for a few moments, bringing it closer to his face and squinting at it, until it seemed to resemble something.  “Well, this here is the subatomic structure of a quark.”  He frowned.  “What the hell is a quark!?”_

_Once more that voice explained things for him. “A quark...is a micro-particle of a proton or a neutron.  You have a degree in quantum physics, too.”_

_He looked over at the man, who was wearing a bright red sport coat, and looked very, very worried.  He knew who this man was, trusted him...trusted him with his life.  They were...friends.  Remembering that made him feel a little less confused, a little less scared._

“Do you like it here?” Donna asked.

Al knew she didn’t mean the infirmary.  Sick Bays, hospitals and infirmaries weren’t exactly high on his list of Fun Places to Visit.  Putting a light hand on her elbow, he gently steered her towards the door.

Once they were in the larger room, he said, “To be honest with you, no.  I only stayed behind because I...well, I felt I owed Sam.  Even if I could never get back there again, I _had_ to stay.  He needed to know there was someone still here, waiting.  If he made it back, and no one was here...”  He trailed off, remembering his own return to an empty house after years of believing Beth was still waiting for him.  “I couldn’t put Sammy through that,” he finished, his words betraying the pain he felt, eyes closed against the impending tears.

When Donna didn’t reply, Al opened his eyes to see tears standing in her eyes.  “Oh, Donna.  I’m sorry.  I...I didn’t mean...”

She dabbed at her eyes and shook her head.  “No, it’s ok, Al.  I-I couldn’t...being here, without him, hurt too much.  When everyone was still here, when I had Tina...it was easier.  I could...pretend that he’d come home.  But when they shut us down...”  She shook her head again.  “That was it.  The proverbial nail.”

Al walked over and pulled her into a hug, his heart breaking for both of them.  They were so young, had so much ahead of them.  For ten years Donna had been essentially a widow.  She’d had friends here, she was a valuable part of the project, but that was hollow comfort. 

“He’ll be all right, Donna,” he claimed.  “He’ll be fine, and you two can get the hell out of here, get on with your lives.”

She started to protest.  “But there’s still so much...”

“Bull,” Al countered.  “Anything Sam thinks he still needs to do he can do somewhere else.”

“What about Ziggy?”

Five years ago Al would’ve snorted in derision and made some kind of scathing comment about the computer.  But, heaven help him, he’d actually grown _fond_ of the damn thing, had come to consider her a friend.  “I don’t know,” he said honestly.  “I’d hate for her to be shut down.  But you kids can’t spend your lives living under a mountain.”  He smiled faintly.  “You’re not dwarves or Hobbits.”

Donna raised an eyebrow, about to say something, when they heard Sam waking up.  Al nodded to Donna, indicating she could go in, and he’d contact Verbeena and the others.  She smiled her thanks, turned to go to her husband, then turned back to Al and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.  “Thank you,” she said, meaning so very much with those two simple words.  And then she went into Sam’s room.

Al blinked at her retreating back, then shook his head with a light chuckle, stepped out into the hallway, and keyed on his wrist communicator.  “Hey ‘Beena?”

“I’m here, Al.  Is Sam awake?”

“Just now.  Donna went to check on him.”

“All right.  I’ll let the others know, and we’ll get things started.  I’ll contact you when we’re ready.”

“Sounds good.”  He sighed and massaged the back of his neck.  “God, I hope this works.”

“I know exactly how you feel, Al.”

Turning off his communicator, Al shook his head.   “I doubt that,” he denied.  “I doubt that very much.”  He rolled his head, trying to ease the growing tension in his neck muscles, then rubbed his temples with a grimace; the headache was getting worse.

He waited out in the hall for a few minutes, then quietly went into the other room.  It wasn’t precisely a waiting room, since it wasn’t often that more than two staff members would need to seek medical treatment at the same time.  But on those rare occasions when both rooms were in use, anyone who needed to could wait in one of the three chairs. 

Both exam rooms were equipped with hospital beds and all necessary equipment to handle most complaints from a sore throat to a work-related accident.  Patients suffering severe trauma would be stabilized and then rushed to an actual hospital, but Al couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.  Physicals were conducted here, as well, and sometimes the Visitors (as they’d come to refer to those people Sam had Leapt into) were treated for any injuries sustained prior to Sam’s arrival in their life.

Al dropped into one of the chairs, closed his eyes and put his head back.  The sooner they got this over with, the sooner Sam was...cured, the better things would be.  Al was sure the current headache was due to worry about Sam, concern that the experiment would fail.  The _last_ thing he wanted was for Sam, one of the most brilliant minds of his generation, to suffer brain damage.

 

He wasn’t the only one with that fear.  Cat was worried about something very similar, although with a slight twist.

“It was horrible,” she told Sammy Jo.  “None of you would listen to me.  You all said it had to be done, for Sam’s sake, and that Dad would understand.” 

Sammy Jo had been concerned when her friend had shown up for breakfast looking like she hadn’t gotten much sleep, and Cat had confirmed her thoughts by telling her about the nightmare she’d had.

“You know we would never do that,” Sammy Jo assured her.  “If this works the way it’s supposed to, Al will actually get better, just like Dad.”

“Yeah, _if_ ,” Cat said, a certain bitterness in her words.  “You have no way of knowing it _will_.  I know you’re this big...super-genius, just like your father, and I’m not, but...”  She trailed off, very near to tears.

“Hey.  What’s the matter?”  Cat seemed...defeated, and that worried her; one thing she truly loved about her friend was Cat’s sustained optimism, no matter how bad the situation.

“Nothing,” Cat denied, shaking her head.

“That’s not Nothing Face, that’s Something Face,” Sammy Jo teased, paraphrasing a line from their favorite TV show.

Cat rolled her eyes, then said, “You’ve never been dumb.”

Sammy Jo blinked.  “And neither have you.”

Cat scoffed.  “Compared to you, I’m Cletus the Slack-jawed Yokel.”

With an arched eyebrow, Sammy Jo stared at her friend.  “What has gotten into you?”

“It’s just...”  Cat sighed.  “I’ve been thinking, and...why am I here?”

“Um.”  Sammy Jo frowned.  “Because I like you?  Because you’re Al’s daughter, your mother is a psychotic loony, you’re a computer genius...take your pick.”

“You and Tina are more computer geniuses than I am.”  She grimaced.  “There’s that damned word again.”

Sammy Jo was at a complete loss.  “Cat...”

“What good am I?  What good is Dad?  Now that Sam’s home, and the other project is destroyed, he doesn’t have anything to do anymore.” She began pacing, emphasizing her words with wide gestures.  “You and your father and Ziggy can...compile all the information or whatever it is you have to do.  Tina’s still needed, Donna’s never going to leave Sam’s side again.  So where does that leave Dad?”  She stopped pacing and looked at Sammy Jo, sadness and a little fear clear on her face.  “Where does that leave me?”

Sammy Jo stood silently for a while, trying to process everything; Cat’s nightmare, her feeling of...uselessness, which was completely unfounded.  Finally she reached out and pulled the younger woman into a hug.  “Cat, I’m so sorry.  I’ve been so...wrapped up in what I was doing – getting Dad home, working out how to take down the other project, now trying to find a way to...cure whatever’s wrong with Dad’s mind – that I never stopped to think about how you’re feeling.”  She let go of Cat and smiled at her.  “You are a _very_ important part of our family, sweetheart.  You’re...our Tara.”

Cat burst into tears at that praise; Tara Maclay had been her favorite character on “Buffy: the Vampire Slayer,” and the comparison moved her.  She’d often said that Tara was the “heart” of the Scoobies, the group of friends who helped Buffy in her fight against the forces of darkness.  She was the grounding center of the group, the one who always managed to keep a level head no matter the situation, the one everyone could come to when they needed comforting.

Just as Cat was about to say something, there was a knock on the door.

“Sorry,” Sammy Jo apologized, then went to the door.  “Morning, Verbeena,” she greeted as she opened it.

“Hi, Sammy Jo.  Oh, Cat, I didn’t know you were here.  Good.  Your father’s awake, Sammy Jo.  We can start whenever you’re ready.”

“Sounds good.  We were just going to have breakfast.  Care to join us?”

“Well...”

“It’s Sammy Jo’s famous French toast,” Cat put in with a grin.

“In that case, I’d be a fool to turn it down,” Verbeena admitted with an answering smile as she came in.

“Good,” Cat said, getting out an extra plate and silverware.  “And besides, I kinda need to talk to you.”

“Oh?”  Verbeena sat at the small table as Sammy Jo brought over the plates she’d been keeping warm in a low oven.

“It’s about Dad, and a seriously messed up dream I had last night,” Cat explained.

“Lots of that going around,” Verbeena pointed out.

 

“How’re you feeling, Sam?” Donna asked when her husband finally opened his eyes.

He frowned.  “Better.  I think.”

“Any more dreams?”

“A few.  I don’t really remember too much, just...vague images.”

Donna reluctantly quelled the surge of hope; just because he hadn’t had nightmares didn’t mean he was miraculously cured.

“Well, that’s good,” she said, smiling.

“Is it?”  He rubbed his face with both hands, looking horribly exhausted.  “I feel like...if I don’t remember everything...then I’ll lose what’s left of my mind.”

“No chance of that happening,” Al assured, coming in with a large grin.

Sam’s reaction to his friend’s appearance completely dashed any trace of hope Donna had left.  In an instant his whole demeanor changed, as did his voice.  His hand as he beckoned Al closer trembled as if he were weak, and the words croaked out of him, sounding like either a very ill or very old person.

“Oh, Ricky!  I’m so glad you’re here, son.  Come, give your mother a kiss.”  At Al’s hesitation, he chided, “You can’t catch cancer from a kiss, child.”

Al closed his eyes with a sigh.  “Oh, Sammy.  No.”  He shook his head, and then looked at Donna.  “Must be one of the ones I missed,” he answered her unvoiced question.

Sam frowned, seemingly confused.  He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.  After a few moments he closed it, and a tear slid down his cheek.

Donna took his hand and held it tightly.  “Shh.  It’s ok, honey.  It’s going to be ok.”

“How?” he asked, sounding like himself, but the anger and despair clear in his words.

“It will be, Sam,” Al promised vehemently.  “Your genius daughter worked it out.  In fact, they should be here any minute to help you get better.”

Sam grimaced and squeezed his temples with one hand.  “I hope so,” he said, pain lacing his words.  “Something’s really wrong in here.”

“I know, buddy.  I know.  But they’ll make it better, I promise.”

Sam slowly lowered his hand and looked over at Al.  “You...you were there.”

Al frowned slightly.  “Where, Sammy?”

“There.  Over...there.”  He made a vague gesture with one hand.

“Yeah, I was in the other room.  I wanted to give you two a little privacy.”

“No.  I mean...over there.  With the fighting.”

“What do you mean, honey?” Donna asked, slightly perplexed.

Al groaned quietly.  “I think he means... ‘Nam.”

Sam nodded.  “You were...being held and...there was a...gunfight.  People were screaming...horses were dying...”  He closed his eyes, and the vibrant images came back to him in flashes.

“There were no horses in Vietnam, Sammy,” Al reminded him.  An unsettling feeling tickled up his spine, and he shuddered.

“No, not there.  The...the other war.  The one between the States.  A young soldier was dying.  H-he asked me to...to give...”

“A letter to his wife,” Al finished, the color draining from his face.

Sam nodded, eyes still closed.  “Cannons thundering, men and horses screaming, dying, smoke everywhere...”

“Standing in a cold stream,” Al went on, his voice flat.  “Surrounded by gunfire.  Bodies floating in the water.”

“But...before...there was...something...before.”  Sam reached out a hand, as if grasping for something.

“A hallway.  A brightly lit hallway,” Al said.  “And a door.”

“No,” Sam pleaded, his voice cracking, sounding so small, so vulnerable.  “Don’t make me look!”

“Big words on the door.  Something long, and then the word ‘lab’.”  Al was staring straight ahead at the wall, and his own voice shifted, becoming more childlike, and clearly frightened.  “There’s something in there, something important.”

“I don’t want to open it!” Sam said, even as his hand closed around an invisible handle.  “Don’t make me open it.  I don’t want to see.”

“Stop it!”  Donna shouted.  “Stop!”  She grabbed Al by the arm and hauled him away from Sam, sending him reeling backwards.  She took Sam by the shoulders and shook him.  “Sam!  Wake up!  Snap out of it!  Come back to me!”  She was pleading, begging her husband to return, tears racing down her cheeks.  “Please.  You _have_ to come back.  You _have_ to be all right again.”

Al stumbled before he was able to catch his balance.  He felt...detached somehow, displaced.  Something very strange had just happened.  Well, stranger than what had been happening recently.  And he had an unsettling feeling that things were going to get stranger before they got better.

“I’m going to go get Verbeena,” he offered, his voice shaky.

“Hurry,” Donna requested, somewhat needlessly.

“I will.”  He looked at Sam, who seemed to have come back to himself, then turned and hurried out.  Once out in the hall, he called out, “Ziggy, where’s Beeks?”

“Having breakfast with your daughter and Doctor Fuller,” the computer responded.

“Patch me through.”

“Of course, Admiral.”

“Ladies, I hate to interrupt your meal,” he apologized, “but we gotta do this as soon as possible.  Things just took a turn for the screwier.”

“What’s wrong, Dad?” Cat asked, picking up on the strain in his voice.

“I’m not entirely sure, baby, but I think your theory about me and Sam still being linked holds a lot more water than any of us thought.”

“What do you mean?” Verbeena questioned.

Al leaned against the wall, eyes closed.  “I could be wrong, and I really hope to god I am, but...I think Sammy and I shared dreams last night.  Not just...similar dreams, but the _exact_ same dreams at the _exact_ same time.”

“Oh my.”

“Yeah.  So, needless to say, I’m freaking more than a little bit.  And Sam just flashed to another personality, apparently one that I wasn’t there for; it didn’t seem familiar at all.  Just briefly, he was a woman dying of cancer.”

“You ok, Dad?” Cat asked with concern.

“Yeah, sweetie.  Just...this is really hard, ya know?”

“We’ll finish breakfast and go get the Accelerator online, Al,” Sammy Jo promised.  “Half-hour.”

“Sounds good.  I’m heading back to the house – Tina’s holding breakfast.”  Al turned and headed back to the infirmary to let Sam and Donna know.  After he gave them the time frame, he did go back to his house, although breakfast was the last thing on his mind.  Things were unraveling far too fast, and he was more worried about Sam’s mental health than his own.

Tina took one look at his face when he walked in, hurried over and hugged him close.  She didn’t ask him what had happened, just held him until the dam finally broke and he started to cry.  He’d been keeping it together for so long, trying to stay stoic and be strong for Sam’s sake, that when the sobs finally came they wracked his body so hard Tina just sunk to the floor with him, rather than trying to get him to the couch.

 

Cat poked the last of her French toast with her fork, her appetite gone, mind and stomach both churning.  The images from her nightmare were playing out again on her mental movie screen, despite the assurances from both Verbeena and Sammy Jo that they wouldn’t sacrifice Al to save Sam.  Her father’s revelation of sharing Sam’s dreams last night further worried her – if they both had the same dreams at the same time, what else would happen to their minds?  Would one or the other of them fully merge with the other, effectively turning them into one person?  Or was it even possible that their minds would...cross over completely, leaving Al in Sam’s body and Sam in Al’s?  If that happened, could it be reversed?  Would anything they did end up mentally or physically killing one or possibly both of them?

Sammy Jo was having thoughts much like Cat’s as she cleaned up the breakfast dishes, taking her friend’s plate without Cat seeming to be aware.  She’d been worried enough that some of the “extra bits” they were hoping to remove might take parts of her father’s mind along, or that the reason he still had those extras was because they were filling holes left in his mind by Leaping.  They had called the effect “Swiss cheese,” but never really thought about the possibility that there were _actual_ holes in Sam’s mind, not just gaps in his memory caused by traveling through his own lifetime.  They’d all just assumed that once he got home, everything he needed to remember would come back to him, in time.  But there was a chance that the trauma of Leaping had actually torn holes in his mind, that might never fill in, because those parts were lost in the past. 

That was one of the reasons that the inability to retrieve Sam after that initial first Leap had been so frustrating; had they been able to bring him back, they could have run all manner of tests to see what the stress of quantum leaping did to him, physically and mentally.  They had no way of knowing if what was happening to him now was because of that first Leap, continued Leaping, or finally being brought back to his own time.  Verbeena had hypothesized that the electroshock treatment he’d suffered, moments after Leaping into the mental patient Sam Beederman, had “kicked out his ego, leaving a valley” that was filled by the personalities of some of his past Leaps.  This might be something similar, or something else entirely.

And as far as the link between Sam and Al’s minds was concerned...Sammy Jo sighed and shook her head.  “We’ve gotta run absolutely every scenario we can come up with,” she stated.  “I don’t want to stick Dad in that damned Accelerator until I’m 100% positive that it won’t kill him.  Or Al.  Or both of them.”

When Cat gave her a look of gratitude, she said, “Al’s like an uncle to me.  I don’t want anything to happen to him, any more than you do.”  She smiled tightly.  “And besides, Dad would kick my ass if something did go wrong.”

 

“Al’s hurting,” Sam said.

“Of course he is, honey,” Donna replied as she helped him get dressed.  Between the drugs Verbeena had been giving him so he could sleep, and what was happening to his mind, he was having a hard time keeping his balance, and some of his motor functions were also suffering.  “He’s worried about you.  We all are.”

“No.  I mean...”  Sam frowned.  Sentences were getting hard to form coherently.  “His heart, yes, but...also his...his...”   He growled in frustration, searching for a simple word.  He gave up and tapped the side of his head.

“He did mention he was starting to get a headache,” Donna affirmed.  She finished tying his shoe, and held out her hand.  When Sam took it, she helped him stand up, cupping his elbow with one hand until he was steady on his feet.  “There we go.  You sure you don’t want to use the wheelchair?”

Sam shook his head adamantly.  “No.  Walk.  Maybe...flush...drugs?”

She nodded.  “I’m sure once you’ve been up for a while the effects will wear off.”  She sighed heavily.  “I’m sorry we have to give them to you, Sam.  But those nightmares...”

“I know,” he answered.  Then he surprised her by pulling her into a hug.  “’s gonna be ok,” he said.  “Got a genius daughter.”

Donna smiled.  “You sound like Al.  He was always praising her, even before she knew you were her father.  ‘You got some smarts, kid,’ he’d say, ‘Off-the-charts smarts.’  He loves her, you know.”

Sam nodded.  “Good.”  Suddenly he turned and looked at her seriously.  “Anything happens...you take care of her?”

Donna blinked.  “Of course, Sam.  I love her, too.”

He nodded again.  “Good.”  Then he fell silent as they walked down the corridor towards the elevator.  The further they went, the easier it was for him to move, and by the time they reached the lift he was walking unaided.  He still hadn’t said anything more, which worried Donna.

 

“What are you doing?”

Al looked up at Tina, about to make a snide comment, but the concern on her face stopped him.  He sighed, and handed her the glass.  “Being stupid,” he replied with a self-deprecating grin.

She took the glass from him and shook her head.  “Al,” she started.

He held up a hand.  “I don’t need a lecture, Tina, please,” he requested.  “I wasn’t looking to get soused, or even tipsy.  Just...” He sighed and shook his head, looking ruefully at the glass of scotch she was holding.  “I’m scared, and worried, and freaking out about the whole...damn mess and I’ve got a pounding headache and my nerves are shot.”  He shrugged, and got up from the couch, where he had wearily dropped after he’d cried himself out on her shoulder twenty minutes ago.

“I wasn’t going to lecture,” she told him, sympathy in her voice.  “I _was_ going to point out that it’s almost time to go.”

He groaned and rubbed his face.  “All right.  I better go freshen up a bit.  Won’t do Sam any good if I look like death warmed over.”

“More like you got ate by a wolf, dumped over a cliff, dried in the sun and run over by a herd of stampeding buffalo,” she joked, taking the glass to the kitchen sink and draining it.

“Nice.  Real nice.”  He chuckled as he headed for the bathroom...then staggered as a blinding pain lanced through his head.  He put a hand against the wall to steady himself, eyes screwed shut as a sudden wave of vertigo washed over him.

“You all right?” Tina asked from behind him.

It took a few moments for the feeling to pass, then he nodded, cautiously.  “Yeah.”  He frowned and opened his eyes.  “That...was weird.  It was...like when you get in an elevator and it first starts to move.  That weird little moment of disorientation you get.”

Tina frowned, then suggested, “Maybe you should eat something first.  You didn’t have breakfast, and drinking...”

Al waved off her concern.  “I’ll be all right.  I’m sure it’s nothing.”  He flicked the light on in the bathroom and crossed to the sink...then blinked as he stared at his reflection.  “Um.”  He shook his head slowly, not trusting his eyes.  “Tina, sweetie?  I don’t mean to alarm you, but...who do you see in the mirror?”

Without asking him what he meant, Tina stepped up behind him to look in the mirror, prepared to say something about the handsome face of the man she loved.  But she gasped in surprise when she realized the reflected image was _not_ of her husband, but rather her best friend’s husband.

Al turned to look at her, and she stared back at him, reaching a tentative hand to his face.  It _was_ his face, here, but in the mirror it was, impossibly, Sam’s.

They stood looking at each other for a few moments, completely perplexed, then Al slowly turned back to the mirror, his confusion reflected clearly on his friend’s face.

“Ziggy!” they shouted in unison.

“Admiral?” the computer replied, surprised by their tone.

“Quick question for you,” Al went on, trying to keep his voice level.  He had to turn away from the mirror again – seeing his words coming from Sam’s face was too unsettling.  “Is it possible, even remotely, that the link between me and Sam could cause visual hallucinations...that other people can see?”

The computer was silent for nearly half a minute, an unnervingly long time for her, then said “Um.”

“Great,” Al muttered, shaking his head as he left the bathroom.  “Just great.  Sam and I are sharing nightmares, I’m starting to look like him in mirrors, and now Ziggy’s magnafluxed.  What next?”

 

“There are a half-dozen distinct personalities that we need to...divest Sam’s mind of,” Verbeena explained, once they’d all gathered in Main Control.  Sam was still silent, and Donna was holding his hand tightly.  Al kept nervously rubbing the side of his face, until Tina finally had to grab his hand to stop him.

“Six?” Donna asked.  “You have to...stick him in there six times?”

“Well, technically, seven,” Sammy Jo corrected.  She turned on a display, and showed them a series of brain scans.  “This one’s Dad’s,” she said, pointing to the first one.  “You see all the overlaps?”  She pushed a button and parts of the scan lit in separate colors. 

“Those are the...extras?” Tina assumed.

Sammy Jo nodded.  “Right.  Not all of them are as...strong.” She pointed to each section and then a scan that was the same color.  “Dr. Ruth’s is actually the weakest, so that’s the one we’ll attempt first.”

“Attempt?” Sam asked weakly.

“We won’t know that it worked for sure until you’re out of the Chamber and we run another brain scan,” his daughter admitted.  “Ziggy gives a...”

“Ziggy fried a circuit,” Al cut in.

“I did not, Admiral,” the computer denied brusquely.  “I was simply...processing your query.  And I believe I have an answer.”

Al snorted.  “Took you long enough.”

“Yes,” she replied simply.

Al opened his mouth to retort, then thought about what she’d said, and slowly closed it again.  He looked at Tina, who quietly said “Oh boy.”

“Dad?”

“Nothing important, sweetie,” he told her.  “We’ll talk about it later.”

Cat wasn’t reassured, but right now they had more pressing matters to tend to.  “As Sammy Jo was saying, we’ve run every possible scenario we can come up with, and Ziggy gives a 98.99% probability of success.”  She looked around the group, and allowed herself a small smile.  “Which will increase each time it works.”

“Ok.  So...Dr. Ruth,” Sam said.  “Who else?”

Sammy Jo pointed to the next scan in line, this one in green.  “Arnold Watkins.  That’s the college kid you Leapt into the second time you ran into Alia.”

“The...Midnight Avenger,” Sam remembered, then frowned.  “No...Marauder.”

“Right.  That one’s _just_ a bit stronger of a connection than Dr. Ruth’s.  Then Jack Stone...”

At the mention of the homicide detective’s name, Sam and Al exchanged looks; that was the nightmare they’d shared, the memories Sam had channeled of when Stone was a little boy who’d let himself into the pathology lab while his mother was being autopsied.

“I’m scared, Al,” Sam said, his voice tight, echoing what he’d said during that very confusing and stressful Leap.  “I’m scared and confused, and I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“You won’t, Sam,” Al assured him.  “You won’t lose your mind.  You _won’t_.” He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat.  “And you won’t die, either,” he promised.  “I won’t let that happen.”

“That’s three,” Donna cut in.  “Who are the others?”

“Two of them were fairly recently, after...we lost touch,” Sammy Jo went on.  “We were still monitoring the Visitors, running brain scans and such, but...”  She trailed off and shrugged, not really needing to continue.  “Brian Jenkins, the horse trainer; you had to pull a lot more from him than others because of his training methods.  And Christina Pastorelli, the opera singer.  _That_ one...”

“Was in Italian,” Sam said, wincing at the memory.  “Thank goodness I was only there a week.  I thought I was going to lose my voice going for those high notes.”

“An Italian opera singer,” Al mused, one eyebrow arched.

“You would’ve like her, Al,” Sam teased his friend.  “She was...well, curvy.”  He chuckled at the look on Al’s face.

“Why don’t I remember her?”

“That was...after you’d stopped meeting with the Visitors,” Sammy Jo told him.  “About a week after Tina left, actually.”

“Oh.”  Al fidgeted a bit, then cleared his throat.  “Ok, so, that’s five.  I assume Oswald’s the last?”

Cat nodded.  “And the strongest.”

“Aside from you,” Verbeena added.  “And...we’re not entirely sure we’ll be able to sever that link.”

Sam and Al both went pale at that pronouncement, and exchanged looks again.  “I don’t like...” Sam started.  “The sound of that,” Al finished.  They blinked, and Sam questioned, “Why don’t you...” and Al finished “think it’ll work?”

Verbeena raised an eyebrow.  “You really need to ask?”

Sam glared at Al.  “Would you stop...”

Al glared right back.  “Finishing my sentences?”

Donna let out a slight chuckle.  “This could almost be funny,” she said.

Al turned to her.  “You wouldn’t think so...”

“If you saw...” Sam continued from her other side.

“What happened earlier,” they finished in unison.

“I think it’s time to fire up the Accelerator,” Sammy Jo suggested, keying in the sequence to bring it online.  She quickly answered all of the security questions, except the last one, which had to be answered, out loud, by Sam.  “What is the Pauli Exclusion Principle?” she read aloud.

“The Pauli Exclusion Principle states that no two fermions can occupy a given quantum state at the same time,” came the correct reply.

As one, they all turned to stare...at Al.  Because Sam’s voice had come from his direction.

“Neither can two human souls,” responded Sam...with Al’s voice.  They stared at each other in shock, until Ziggy informed them, “Accelerator is online.”

 

Sam opened his eyes and turned his head; as he was waking he’d felt that someone else was in the room with him.  When he was able to focus clearly he groaned.

“How are you feeling?” Verbeena asked with solicitude.

“Doc, no offense, but...I’m getting rather tired of waking up here.”

She arched an eyebrow.  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to the accommodations, Sam.  At least until this is over.”

He sat up with another groan, swinging his legs out of bed to sit on the edge, and rubbing his face with both hands.  “When’s that gonna be?” he asked, with a distinct growl to his words.

“Well, the first three were successful.  Scans show no further evidence of Doctor Ruth Westheimer, Arnold Watkins or Jack Stone’s neurons.  The last one, however, took a bit longer to...dislodge than we’d thought.  How’s your head?”

He looked up at her with a frown.  “Is that some kind of joke?”

Her frown had an edge of hurt to it.  “No.  I’m concerned you might’ve suffered a reaction headache.  You briefly lost consciousness when we sent Stone’s neurons back where they belonged.”

“Oh.”  He sat up straighter and thought about it.  “Well, there _is_ a kind of...dull ache,” he realized, lowering his head a bit so he could rub his temples with one hand.

Verbeena nodded.  “I’m sure there is.  We’ll let you rest a while longer, then, if you’re up for it, we’ll continue.”

He looked up at her pleadingly.  “I want this over with, Doc.  I want...to be me again, to be whole again.”

She put a hand on his shoulder and smiled sadly.  “I know you do, Sam.  And we’re doing our best.  We don’t want to rush this, since we have no idea what kind of stress this is putting you under.  Any other symptoms?  Did you have any dreams, any...flashes to other personalities?”

Sam shook his head.  “Not that I can remember.”  He smiled in relief.  “Seems like your plan’s working after all.”

Now her smile was much lighter.  “Good.  I’m glad to hear it.”  She glanced at her watch.  “So...you just rest here for another half-hour, then we’ll see about getting rid of the horse trainer, the opera singer and Oswald.”

Sam grimaced.  “The singer wouldn’t have been so bad...if it’d been one of the seven languages I _do_ speak.  I had a helluva time repeating what Al was telling me to say to Don Geno that time.  Especially when he got carried away and started talking too fast for me to follow.”

Verbeena chuckled.  “I’m sure that was a bit of a challenge.”

“It was.  All I really had to say was ‘ _Questa_ _è stata un'idea di_ _mio padre_ ,’ but he went off on a rant about hairdressers...”  He trailed off and shook his head with a chuckle.  “Love the man, but _a volte_ _mi_ _fa salire_ _una parete.  So_ _cosa voglio dire_?”

Verbeena blinked and shook her head.  “Umm...Sam?  I thought you just said you don’t speak Italian?”

He stared at her, confused.  “Huh?”

“You just rattled off something in Italian,” she explained.

Now it was his turn to blink in surprise.  “Huh.  I _thought_ in English.”

“Uh...huh.  Well, what came out of your mouth was certainly _not_ English.  I think we better see if we can speed up the process, before things get _really_ weird.”

“That’d be a good idea, Doc.”  He watched her face, hoping to be able to tell which language she heard him speaking in.

Verbeena nodded.  “We just wanted to give you enough time to recover between each session.  I’ll go talk with Sammy Jo, see what she suggests.  You just...take it easy, ok?”

“You got it, Doc,” he answered cheerfully, reclining in the bed.  Inside, however, he was feeling the panic start to build again.  Italian was _not_ a language he spoke at all.  Al spoke it fluently, since his father was from Abruzzi.  If Sam was speaking it so well that meant only one thing – he was channeling Al again.  _Not_ something he really wanted to have happen.  The last time the two of them had swapped bits of their minds...well, best not to think about it.  Although that was one night Donna wouldn’t soon forget.  He grinned lasciviously at the memory.

He was still grinning when Donna walked in a few moments later.

“Ah, the girl of my dreams!” he enthused, sitting up to face her.

She smiled.  “Feeling better, I take it?”

“Fantastic,” he replied, and the grin returned, accompanied by a glint in his eye.

“I ran into Verbeena in the hall...” Donna started.  Anything else was lost in a gasp when Sam hopped off the bed, scooped her up and deposited her where he’d been moments before.

“No more talk,” he insisted, leaning close to her.  He slipped an arm behind her back and pulled her close for a kiss.

“Um...”  Donna pulled away from him.  “Honey, not that I don’t want a kiss...”

Sam pushed her back onto the bed and climbed up, straddling her hips and bracing himself with his hands on either side of her shoulders.  “You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen,” he informed her, lowering himself slowly, leering at her.  “The things I want to do...”

“Sam?  Honey?  Wake up.”  Donna shook his shoulder gently.

Sam let out a shriek and bolted out of the bed, blinking rapidly, his heart hammering.  That was the _weirdest_ experience he’d had yet – he’d thought he’d been awake, had had a conversation with Verbeena, and then...

Concerned, Donna moved closer to him, noticing that he was trembling with...fear?  “Sam?  Are you all right?  What’s wrong, honey?”

He stared at her as his heart slowly returned to a normal rhythm.  “Oh....god...” he groaned, swiping a shaking hand down his face.  “I...”  He took a couple of wobbly steps to the bed and collapsed onto it, head hanging.  “I...don’t know...what’s real anymore,” he said tremulously.

“Do you want me to get Verbeena?” Donna offered.

Sam shook his head.  “No.  I...”  He looked up at her.  “Was she...just here?”

She nodded.  “Yes.  I just ran into her in the hall.  She said you were awake, and feeling better, but that you’d...”

He reached out suddenly and took her hand.  “Something...happened.  Somehow...I had this...flash, like...some kind of weird...foresight.  You came in, and I...I...”  He dropped her hand and looked away from her.  “I practically raped you,” he said quietly.

Donna didn’t say anything for a few moments, trying to process what he’d just told her.  “You...what?”

“It was after Verbeena left.  I...I’d been...I don’t know, channeling Al or something, talking in fluent Italian, and she said she was going to go talk with Sammy Jo, see if they could...speed things up.  Then I laid back, thinking about that night when I came home, when Al and I switched.  And then...”  He swallowed the gorge that was trying to rise up his throat.  “I felt...”  He finally looked at her, tears welling in his eyes.  “Oswald was in control, then, and...what he wanted to do to you...”

“Oh, Sam.”  She sat next to him on the bed and pulled him to her, trying to soothe his fears.  “You would _never_ hurt me, honey.  Even if Oswald _did_ get control, he could never make you do something like that.”

“It was...so...sick.  Perverted.  And...at first...I wasn’t sure it was Oswald.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d just been merging or whatever with Al...”

“No.  Stop right there, Sam.  You know Al would _never_ do that, either.  It’s not in his nature, or in yours.  And don’t even think that it’s something lurking inside you.”  She sighed, and went on.  “You witnessed some pretty horrific things over the years, Sam, and...your poor mind...it’s just trying to process everything.  It’s trying to sort out what’s you and what’s left over from the people you Leapt into.  You are a _good, decent_ man, Samuel John Beckett.  A very caring, loving, _gentle_ man.”

He wrapped his arms around her and cried.

 

“You don’t seem overly happy,” Cat observed.

Sammy Jo shook her head, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she made minor adjustments to the program.  “I’m too worried to be happy,” she admitted, watching the computations change on her screen as she worked.

“Why worried?  It’s working, isn’t it?  You’ve sent the first three...interlopers back where they belonged.”

“Yeah, it’s worked.  So far.”

“So...what’s the problem?”

Sammy Jo pointed to the last scan on the screen.  “That one,” she said bluntly.  “If getting rid of Stone’s neurons knocked Dad out...what’s going to happen when we try to send Oswald’s back?  He ended up in that...”  She bit her lower lip, rather than use the epithet she had in mind.  “That was the only time Dad Leapt into someone repeatedly.  Each time he did, more...little bits of Oswald stuck.”

“Yeah, I know.  But you managed to get rid of the others, right?  Even that homicide detective whose memories gave Sam nightmares.  So...”  She shrugged.  “Worry about Oswald when it’s time.  Take care of the other two first.  Maybe once it’s...less crowded in there, it’ll be easier to isolate the neurons that don’t belong.”

“Maybe,” Sammy Jo agreed, but she didn’t sound too confident.

“Hey, I’ve got total faith in you.  Miracles are kind of your stock in trade.”  Cat chuckled.  “Might have to start referring to you as Scotty, you keep this up.”

Sammy Jo finally looked up at her friend, with a very puzzled expression.  Cat just grinned at her, and after a few moments it sunk in, and Sammy Jo grinned back.  “I’m givin’ her all she’s got, Cap’n,” she said, attempting a Scottish accent, “but I dinna think the engines can handle it.”

Cat laughed.  “Just stay out of the dilithium chamber,” she warned.

Sammy Jo’s laughter died and she turned back to the keyboard with a look of intense concentration.

“Ruh-roh.  I know that look,” Cat stated.  “You’ve got another idea cooking in that crazy-brilliant brain of yours.”

“I think you just gave me the solution to a pretty serious problem,” Sammy Jo replied distractedly.

“Yay me?”

Sammy Jo made a noncommittal sound, all of her attention focused on the screen as she worked.  Realizing that further conversation would have to wait, Cat sighed and leaned against the wall, arms crossed.  She glanced at her watch, and then did a double-take when she saw how late it was.  Well past lunchtime, but she knew Sammy Jo wouldn’t break off what she was doing to eat, even if Cat brought her something.

She, however, had no reason to skip a meal, so she slipped out of Main Control.  She decided as she reached the elevator to drop in on her father, see how he was doing, and maybe grab a quick bite with him.  She didn’t bother to call them; she knew Tina would be in full “mother hen” mode because Al would be too distracted to think about eating, so whatever she’d have for lunch would be something simple, quick and light, like sandwiches or cold chicken.

Tina made the best chicken Cat had ever tasted, which they’d just had for supper last night.  She was thinking about grabbing a leftover leg as she exited the building and headed for her father’s house.  She loved how close they’d gotten in the few short months she’d known him.  Finally, for the first time in her life, she felt _loved_ , felt like she _belonged_ , had a family.  Michael, her stepfather, had loved her, of course, but it wasn’t the same.  That love, she’d always felt, was more out of pity than anything.  No, this was _true_ love, she was sure of it.  This was her family, the...whole crazy lot of them, and nothing would ever take her away from them again.

 

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Al admitted with an unhappy sigh.  “But I’m sure as hell not giving in,” he stated firmly.

“Good,” Tina said.  “Her home is here.  Her _family_ is here.”

Al raised an eyebrow at the conviction in her tone.  He opened his mouth to say something, just as Cat walked in.

“Uh-oh.  What’d I walk into?” she asked, looking from one worried face to the other.

“It’s nothing,” Al tried, but Tina shot him a look.  “Well, compared to what’s happening to Sam, it’s nothing urgent,” he amended.

“Cat, honey,” Tina started.

“Oh boy.  I know that tone.”  Cat backed up a step.  “That’s bad news.”

“Well...”

Al got up from the couch and took Cat’s hands.  “I...got a letter today,” he told her, “from a lawyer.”

“That’s never good.”

Al allowed himself a dry chuckle.  “Definitely not in this case.  Seems I might’ve...overstepped a bit by making the decision to keep your mother hooked up to life support.”

Cat’s face paled slightly, and she frowned.  “What...what do you mean?”

“Well, it turns out your mother actually has a living will and...”  He sighed and looked at his daughter sadly.  “She named you her health care proxy.  That means all decisions regarding her health...are up to you.”

Cat simply stared at him, too overwhelmed to have a coherent thought.  Al put an arm around her waist and walked her to the couch, which she sank down into in a daze.  “I...I don’t...”

“It’s up to you, honey,” Tina said gently.  “You don’t have to decide right away; you should go talk with her doctors, see what they have to say about her condition.  But...”  She sighed quietly.  “Eventually...you will have to make the choice.”

Cat nodded, feeling completely numb.  After everything her mother had done to her over the years, _this_ was actually the worst.  Maxine’s life was literally in Cat’s hands.  “The bitch,” she said with quiet vehemence.  “The conniving bitch.”

Al exchanged looks with Tina; they’d thought the same thing themselves.  What a horrible burden to put on Cat.  If she made the choice to take her mother off life support, she’d live with the uncertainty her whole life of whether she did what was best for Maxine, or got some form of revenge.  Guilt like that would eat at her the rest of her life.

“We’re here for you, sweetheart,” Al assured her.  “No matter what choice you make.  This is your home.”

Cat turned to him, tears reaching her smile.  “Thank you.  I-I needed to hear that.  I love you.”

Al pulled her into a hug, fighting back his own tears.  “I love you, too, honey.  With all my heart.”

 

Sammy Jo was worried about her father.  He’d come in, by himself, a half-hour ago, practically begging her to finish the sessions.  He’d looked horrible; pale, drained, a slightly crazed look in his eyes.  But she brushed it off as stress and the effects of what was happening to him, and agreed to put him in again, even though she’d promised Verbeena that he’d rest between sessions, so she could monitor his health.  She wanted it to be over as much as he did, and it had worked so far.

She’d fired up the Accelerator again, and managed to dislodge the horse trainer and the opera singer...and had to half-carry Sam out of the Chamber after the last one.  He was so weak from fighting against the effects of the Chamber that he’d collapsed.  Now he was leaning against what was left of the ramp to the Imaging Chamber, trying to regain enough strength to go in for the final round.  This one would be the worst – Oswald was fairly well ensconced, and Sammy Jo was afraid they might not succeed this time.

 

Sam was fighting the waves of dizziness that kept crashing over him.  Even though Sammy Jo had reprogrammed the Accelerator so that it only latched on to the specified neurons and sent them back through time, the energy was pulling on him, as well.  Add in the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day, and that he’d only been able to sleep when Verbeena had given him a sleep aid, and it was no wonder he was feeling unstable.

He watched Sammy Jo at the controls, fine-tuning things for the last session.  She really was quite remarkable, handling this whole thing with aplomb.  She had to be worried, but she didn’t let it show.

She seemed to sense him watching, and turned to him.  “Now that the rest of them are gone, my agent can take complete control,” she said sardonically.  “You’re playing right into my hands, Samuel.  Soon he will destroy your entire family, and you’ll be helpless to do anything.”

Sam blinked at her in confusion.  “Wh-what?”

She grinned, but there was no humor in it, only pure evil.  “You are such a fool!  Don’t you know what’s happening?  Oswald is taking over your body, completely!”  She laughed, a horrible, grating sound, and walked towards him.  As she did she...morphed into Donna, who stood standing over him with a look of such utter hatred on her face that his heart clenched in fear.  “He will murder everyone you hold dear, Samuel.  Slaughter your wife, your daughter, your best friend.  Your hands will drip with their blood, and there won’t be a _thing_ you can do to stop it!”

“No,” he whimpered, crabbing backwards from this...abomination.  He shook his head, and the Donna-beast crouched in front of him, and became Al.

“Oh, yes,” he cackled.  “Yes.  It is time.  Well past time, in fact.  Rape, torture, and then slow, agonizing deaths.  And in the end, the police will arrive, and they’ll lock you away.  Throw you in a padded cell for the rest of your life.  You’d gone crazy...”

“No!”  Sam reached backwards and grabbed the edge of the ramp to the Imaging Chamber, using it to pull himself to his feet.  “No, I-I won’t...I won’t let that happen.”

As the creature stood, it changed again, this time to Tina.  “You want to, Samuel.  You know you do.  You’ve always wanted her.”  She moved closer to him, her voice turning husky.  “You want to feel those curves, run your fingers through her hair...”  The creature shifted again.  “Or maybe you like them younger?” it asked, taking on Cat’s appearance.  “Young, nubile...”  And once more it changed.  “Or maybe something a bit more...exotic?” Verbeena’s voice asked.

 

Sammy Jo glanced over at her father, and smiled when she saw him watching her.  His pride in her was very evident.  But suddenly the look on his face turned to one of confusion, and then sheer terror.

“Dad?  What’s wrong?” she asked, starting towards him.  She thought perhaps he was having another flash, and was worried that if it was Oswald she wouldn’t be able to reach him; that connection had been the strongest of any of the merges, and it’d gotten harder and harder for him to keep control until he’d finally Leapt out.  She thought furiously, trying to remember what Al had said he’d used to get through to Sam during that Leap.

“Wh-what?” he asked, obviously confused.

“I asked if something was wrong.”  Clearly something _was_ , and she keyed on her wrist communicator.  “Al, better get down here,” she requested.  “I think Dad’s having another episode.”  She walked over to her father, and was surprised when he backed away from her as if he was afraid of her, and whimpered, “No” as he shook his head.

“On my way,” Al responded.

“No!” Sam grabbed the remnants of the ramp to the Imaging Chamber and pulled himself to his feet.  “No, I-I won’t...I won’t let that happen.”

“Dad, it’s ok.  Take it easy.  Nothing’s going to happen.  Al’s on his way here, and you can rest a little while.  Ok?  We’ll wait a while before the last session.  It’s gonna be ok.”  She fought to keep the desperation from her voice, hoping help would get here soon.  She didn’t know what her father could be capable of if he lost control to Oswald.

Fortunately Al arrived just a few moments later, and hurried over to Sam, who looked absolutely petrified.

“I’m here, Sam,” he said gently, stopping a couple feet away from his friend.  “It’s ok, buddy, I’m here.”

“I won’t let you hurt them,” Sam said, his voice choked with fear and anger.  “Not my family.”

“No one’s gonna get hurt, Sammy,” Al promised him.  “What happened?” he asked Sammy Jo quietly.

“We did two more sessions, sent the neurons of Brian and Christina back.  The last one was a bit...rough, and...he was just...sitting on the floor, resting, while I recalibrated.  I looked over and...he just...freaked out.”

Al sighed softly and shook his head.  “Dammit.”  He took one step closer to Sam, but froze when his friend cowered.  “Sammy...c’mon, buddy.  Listen to me.  I know you can hear me, Sam.  You got to fight it.  Fight it.  It isn’t real.  You _know_ that.  C’mon, buddy, you can do it.  Don’t let them win, Sammy.”  He wasn’t sure what, or who, Sam was afraid of, but he had a fairly good idea.

“I...I w-wouldn’t....r-rape anyone,” Sam said through gritted teeth.  “I don’t care what you say!”

Al swallowed hard, and he heard a small whimper from Sammy Jo.  “I know you wouldn’t, buddy.  It’s ok.  I know you’re...scared and confused, but it’s going to be all right.  Just...trust me, all right?”  He was having a hard time keeping the defeat from his voice, but he had to, had to sound strong and confident, be Sam’s anchor again.  He closed his eyes against the tears, unable to look at the stricken look on Sam’s face.

After a few tense minutes, he heard a very quiet, “Al?”

Opening his eyes again, he smiled.  “Yeah, Sam.  I’m right here.  I never left.  C’mon.  Come back to us, Sammy.  We’ll get this taken care of, and you’ll be all right again.”

 

The beast, the _demon_ , was whispering all the terrible things he’d do when he lost control, the painful ways his friends and family would suffer at his hands, when he suddenly heard a new voice.  A strong, confident voice.  And he knew it, knew it was a voice he could trust, that it would never lie to him, never hurt him.  That voice was his lifeline, his only way back home, back to himself.

“Al?” he asked tentatively, blinking away the tears and looking for his friend.

“Yeah, Sam.  I’m right here.  I never left.  C’mon.  Come back to us, Sammy.”

Sam let out a sigh of relief and nodded to himself, then lurched over to Al’s waiting arms.

 

When Sam stumbled unexpectedly towards him, Al instinctively caught his friend, concerned that the effects of the process to rid his mind of the unwanted neurons might be having a negative impact on Sam.  And for one brief moment, he experienced a wave of irrational anger.  If Sam hadn’t been so damned eager to test his theory, none of this would’ve happened.  But no sooner had that thought entered his mind than another came right behind it.  _None_ of this would’ve happened.  Meaning no Cat, no Tina, no lifelong friendship between himself and Sam.  And that prospect was worse.

“Help me,” Sam pleaded, sagging in Al’s arms.

Al struggled to hold him upright, going almost down to his knees, and promised fervently, “I will, Sam.  I will.”

And then there were other hands helping to support Sam, and Al looked up gratefully at Tina and Donna.  “I think he had another visit from...You-Know-Who,” he said tightly as they got Sam across the room and eased him down to the floor.  Donna raised an eyebrow at him, and he explained, “He was...seeing something, or _someone_ , that wasn’t there, and promised he wouldn’t rape anyone.”

“Oh god,” Tina breathed, looking down at Sam with worry, and pity.

“Yeah.”  Al wiped the sweat from his face and sighed heavily.  “When I got here, he said he wouldn’t hurt anyone, or let anyone get hurt, and then said...well...”  He trailed off rather than repeat himself.  There was a solid knot of fear stuck in his throat, and it felt as if his heart was being squeezed.  He could only imagine what the...apparition had said to Sam, what it had threatened to do.

Sam raised his head and looked up at Al, and suddenly...he _knew_.  It was as if Sam were speaking directly into his mind, a sensation that so unnerved him he staggered backwards, bumped into the main console and grabbed it tightly to keep his feet.  He stared at Sam, his face white with horror.

“Oh, no...oh, god no,” he murmured, shaking his head slowly.

“Al?  What is it?” Donna asked, looking from him to Sam.  “What’s happening?”

“I...”  Al cleared his throat and tried again.  “The...link...between us.  It’s still...open.  And...”  He looked at her, feeling as if he was going to be sick at any moment.  “He...showed me...what the Beast’s agent had told him.”

Donna raised an eyebrow, but before she could ask for clarification, Al held up a shaking hand.  “Please, Donna...don’t ask.”  He swallowed hard and closed his eyes.  “It...I can’t.  Can’t tell you, _won’t_ tell you.  Just...”  He opened his eyes and looked at her, then Tina and finally Sammy Jo.  “We have to finish the process.  Get Oswald out of there, before he takes over Sam completely.  If we don’t, if he gains control...none of us will survive.”

“Can we put him back in so soon?” Tina asked doubtfully.  “He can barely stand.”

“I know.  But we _have_ to,” Al repeated.  Then he turned to Sammy Jo.  “And you have to sever this link between us, too.  Because...if Oswald wins out, Sam’s mind will flee his body.”

She blinked once, then realized the implication.  “It would follow the link to the safest place...”

“Yeah,” Al agreed raggedly.

Sammy Jo stood immobile for a moment, then seemed to snap herself out of her thoughts with a shake of the head.  “I actually had a theory about that.”

Al managed a weak smile.  “I had a feeling you would,” he said warmly.

“You’re not going to like it,” she cautioned.

“I figured as much.”

“Cat inadvertently suggested it,” she went on, as her fingers flew over the keyboard, returning to the program she’d been working on when her father had shown up.

“Of course she did.”

“My goodness,” Ziggy suddenly said.  “Doctor Fuller, are you sure?”

“Only way to save them both, Ziggy,” Sammy Jo stated.

Before Tina or Donna could ask what they were talking about, a low hum started from behind them, and they turned to face...the Imaging Chamber.  Tina’s face paled as she understood what Sammy Jo was considering, then whirled on her.  “NO!  Absolutely not!”  In three strides she was in front of Sammy Jo and grabbed her by the shirt.  “You figure something else out,” she demanded, her face inches from Sammy Jo’s.  “Or so help me, I will break every bone in your body.”  Despite the mounting anger, her voice was level.  The only outward sign was the narrowing and darkening of her eyes, and the whitening of the skin of her knuckles as she tightened her grip on Sammy Jo’s shirt.

Donna put a hand on her friend’s shoulder.  “Tina,” she said quietly.  “It’s the only way.”

“Like hell!  She claims she’s this...super-genius!  SHE CAN FIGURE OUT ANOTHER WAY!”

Unperturbed by Tina’s reaction, Sammy Jo stated calmly, “The link was first established in the Imaging Chamber.  It’s the best, _only_ , way to destroy it.”

 

Sam opened his eyes slowly, and groaned when he recognized his surroundings.  “Oh, not again,” he complained.

“How’re you feeling, Sam?” Verbeena asked.

He tried to sit up, but stopped when a wave of light-headedness washed over him.  “Like I was Kissed by a Dementor,” he said sourly.

Verbeena raised an eyebrow.  “Not sure I get the reference.”

He sighed slightly and tried again to sit up, slower this time.  When his vision didn’t swim out of focus, or his stomach lurch, he smiled tightly.  “Saw it in a movie I watched with Sammy Jo one night,” he explained.  “Basically, I feel like someone tried to suck my very soul out of my body.”

“Ah.  Well, that’s actually an apt description.  Insofar as there _was_ something...sucked out.”  Verbeena winced at her poor wording.  “I mean...”  She sighed and shook her head.  “The process is complete.  The only neurons in your head now are the ones that belong there.”

Sam felt relief wash over him, a much more pleasant feeling than nausea.  “Really?  You were able to get rid of...all of them?”

Verbeena nodded.  “All clear,” she promised.

“So...does this mean I can finally get out of here?”

“Well, I really think you should rest a while longer, but...yes, you can finally leave.”

Sam smiled and started to get out of bed when he realized that Verbeena was tense.  There was something she wasn’t telling him.  “What?” he asked, feeling dread start to creep in.  “What’s wrong?”  And then in an instant he knew.  “Al?”  He stood, swaying slightly, but determined to leave that damned infirmary bed once and for all.  “Verbeena, what happened?”

“He’s here, Sam,” Verbeena assured him.

Sam could hear the “but” in her voice, and waited for it.  When she didn’t continue, he prompted, “And?”

She sighed.  “Sammy Jo...activated the Imaging Chamber...”

“She _what_!?”

“She needed to, Sam.  That’s where the initial link between your brainwaves was established.  In order to...break that link, she had to...reverse-engineer the process.”

“But the Chamber was destroyed by the lightning.  The radiation...”

“Was contained.”

Sam was starting to panic.  “You can’t know that!  You risked his life, for what!?”

“To keep you two from literally losing your minds.”  She stepped towards him.  “Sam...your life was in danger.  If that link hadn’t been severed, if Oswald had gained control, your mind would’ve fled from your body, going to the safest location it could quickly get to.”

He frowned in thought, and then realized what she was saying.  “It would’ve...”

“Jumped to Al.”

“No two fermions...” he started, his face paling.

She nodded silently.  Sam sagged back onto the bed, and ran a shaking hand through his hair.  He’d never thought, all those years ago, that anything like this could happen.  He’d been _so_ sure that the procedure was safe; he was a medical doctor, he knew how the human mind worked.  Or, he’d thought he did.  A neuro-link had seemed safe.  At the time...

“Is...is he...”

“Fine,” that familiar voice assured him from the doorway.  “Got the mother of all headaches, though.  Feels like the day after a hangover after a week-long bender.”  Al did, indeed, look like he was suffering the effects of overindulgence – he was leaning on the doorframe, as if it was the only thing keeping him upright, his face was drawn and tight, and he was squinting against the brightness of the light. Or the loudness of voices.  Or both.

“Al!”  Sam was so relieved he crossed the room in two steps and practically lifted Al off his feet in a bear hug.

“Oof.”  Al chuckled, despite being squeezed tightly.  “Good to see you, too, buddy.  Now...could ya let go before you collapse a lung?”

Sam reluctantly released his friend, with a grin that looked like it wouldn’t fade until sometime next week.

Al straightened his rumpled clothes and shook his head.  “That daughter of yours...”

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Sam praised.

“Helluva risk she took.  But it worked.”  He cocked his head to one side and scrutinized Sam.  “So...how’s your noggin?  Any...uninvited guests?”

“Not that I’ve noticed.”  Sam sighed happily.  “It’s going to be nice to get a decent night’s sleep for once.”

Al looked at him seriously.  “Sam, do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Stay the hell out of my mind.”

Sam laughed.  “Gladly.  As long as you do the same.”

“You can count on it.”

With a grin, Sam draped an arm over Al’s shoulders.  “So, what do you say we get away from all this for a while?”

Al arched an eyebrow.  “A vacation?”

“A vacation.  Somewhere...tropical.  I want to bury my toes in warm sand, laze in a hammock and sip cold drinks all day, watch the sun sink into the ocean and paint the sky glorious shades every night.”

“Sounds like paradise.”


End file.
